An Imperfect Perfection
by iwantyourovaries
Summary: Because even soldiers from a backwater box canyon in the middle of nowhere can find romance. Collection of unrelated oneshots. Mostly Tex/Church, some Wash/ South.
1. Let it be

**A/n: Blame this on the shuffle button on my iPod. Not me. The iPod. So, just a random collection of five songs, and some Tex/ Churchish scenarios for each. Oh yeah, spoilers for episode 100, and Reconstruction.**

1) Let it Be- The Beatles

**A/n: Pvt. Jimmy! Yes, "it doesn't seem physically possible", but I have resurrected the dead to serve my every fanfiction whim, mwahahaha. And if you can tell, I picture Jimmy as rather a country bumpkin, who doesn't know much about the ways of the world.**

"Bye, York!" Jimmy heard the light, usually surly, but now happy, voice and frowned a bit.

"See ya later, my love!" called the male Freelancer jokingly, "For I shall not sleep one night if I have not my dear Texas!"

"Fuck you, York," laughed Tex, turning the corner, looking behind her and flipping the bird.

"Please!" came the faint reply as he walked in the opposite direction, and Tex just shook her head.

She passed the regulation blue soldier with no acknowledgement, and went on her way. Jimmy's frown deepened. What were they talking about? Tex was going out with Church. He bunked with Church, and many a night came where he had to go to the hospital with a 'stomach ache' for any sleep because of their…physical relationship. He stopped walking in shock. No, it couldn't be…could Tex be cheating on Church with York? Oh no. He'd have to tell Church. He had to tell Church immediately! Poor Church, he'd be heartbroken.

Jimmy picked up his pace to a quick walk with a sigh. Things had been so much easier on the farm. That was before his father had joined and made sergeant quickly, prompting his son to join as well.

"Church, Church!" He burst into the rather small room, eyes wide.

"What?" Church snapped, pulling on his gauntlets, already mostly suited up.

"Tex is cheating on you!" the words slipped from his tongue before he could arrange them in any tactful way.

"What?" asked Church, his voice deadly still, almost a whisper.

Jimmy nodded vigorously. "With York, I heard them bantering…" he trailed off as Church pushed past him, his face as dark as a thundercloud. "Where are you going?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion and his southern accent.

"To find her," spat Church through gritted teeth, "She has quite a lot of explaining to do. Twenty bucks missing from my wallet? Cheating on me?" the cobalt-clad man let out an audible sigh, "**Let it be**, Jimmy. I'll deal with this."

After he left, Jimmy plopped on his bunk _Should I have not told him?_ He fretted to himself, _Nah, it was only right,_ he decided after a few moments of thought... Getting up, he got ready to go to the BX/PX, the general store for the joint bases, and pulled out his wallet. Checking, he seemed to have more money than he usually did…. screwing up his face in thought, he remembered that he had gotten beer and chips for Church and the guys at their football party last night.

He'd borrowed twenty dollars from Church, knowing he wouldn't mind, espicially if beer was involved. Oops. _Well,_ thought Jimmy, contentedly ambling his way over to the BX, _Tex'll set him straight. _After all, they still have to settle the York issue. He heard yelling, and many gunshots on the other side of the compound, but didn't think anything of it. Everything always ended happily, right? Three days later, they were shipped off to Sidewinder, Church still wincing in pain.


	2. Cowboy Cadillac

2) Cowboy Cadillac- Garth Brooks

**A/n: angst, angst, angst, angst….**

Church turned over on his bunk again and sighed. Why her? Why did she have to be so damn stubborn, chasing Omega to the end of the universe and back, ending in the damn ship blowing up in the damn blue sky, while the damn sun shined and the damn birds sung happily?

_Damn,_ he thought sourly. Above all else, Tex had been a mean, vicious, rotten bitch. He remembered first grade, seeing her when he was on the swings, rendered almost useless by the heat of the Texas sun, and sticking his tongue out at her. She had pushed him off his burning swing and taken it for herself, not flinching from the heat for a moment.

Sixth grade, he blushingly asked her to the valentines' day dance, and she scornfully refused. Loudly. In the middle of the cafeteria. In front of everyone.

Eighth grade, when he was elected student president, she made a point to tell him that she hadn't voted for him. Loudly. Again, in front of everyone.

It was ninth grade when she had started taking Karate at the old community center in their town. He took it as well, hoping to be on the same level as her. He wasn't. (being a vicious bitch helped. Ally being the bitch, not him.)

At the end of junior year, they started going out, against all odds. Those were some joyful, if pain-filled years.

As seniors, she enlisted in the marines with no warning. It made sense, though, in a strange way. He followed, like always. He'd always followed her, like a moth and a flame. It was no wonder that he caught on fire, eventually, after Basic and after the AI, when she broke up with him.

Tex had always been there to make fun of him when he fell, to scorn him when he couldn't do something, motivating him in her own way. At least she had always been _there_. Where the hell was she now?

Yes, she was a cruel, vindictive, spiteful harpy, but she was _his_, and he would give anything right then, to hear one more insult, one more barbed comment. Because for some strange, bizarre reason, he loved her. And that was all that mattered. And now she was gone.


	3. Falling for the First Time

3) Falling for the First Time- Barenaked Ladies

"Ally!" the cry echoed up and down the hall, reflected by the tile floor and dysfunctional, mostly broken, lockers.

Allison Beth heard her named being called, and turned to glare at the yeller. The high school's halls were empty, she could hear the buses pulling out of the lot, packed with hormones and drama, A.K.A high school students.

_Damn,_ she cursed mentally, glaring at Leonard L. Church with intense green eyes.

"What?" she snapped angrily, tired after all the tests they had to take today, most of which she probably failed. Junior year sucked, was the general consensus of all the students as the year drew to a close.

"I was just," he paused, a light blush spreading across his pale skin as his light blue eyes swung up to meet hers, "wondering if you would go out with me?" he rushed hurriedly, eight words condensed in one breath, embarrassed as he defiantly met her eyes.

"Leo," she started tiredly, taking a step towards him, "You've been asking me out for a solid five or six years now. Five years ago, I said _no_. Three years ago, I said _no._ And last year, I said _no._ She punctuated each 'no' with a step, until she stood face to face with him, glowering into his ice blue eyes. _Actually, last year, you just kind of laughed at him,_ her memory told her as she brushed it off. "So what do you think I'll say this year?" she exploded, crossing her arms.

"Yes?" suggested Leo with a hopeful grin, hiding his defeat with a smile.

She tried not to smile in return as she replied, after a pregnant pause, "I'll think about it." Turning, she walked towards the entrance, heading for her nearby house.

He stood, shocked, and suddenly she heard a hissed, "Yes!", accompanied, no doubt, by wild dancing.

She was branded the 'tough girl', a reputation helped by her usual surliness, quiver of barbed insults, waiting to be launched, and her overall air of being able to kick anyone's ass, and thoroughly enjoy it.

He was, quite frankly, a dweeb. A no one. He was fit enough, but he was never picked up on by the popular radar. He was quite smart, knew computers inside and out, and dressed for comfort, not looks.

They were a match made in hell, sure to never work, guaranteed to crash and burn. Then why did she feel fluttery whenever she saw him smile? It wasn't normal to feel like flying whenever he looked at her, right? She wasn't in love with him, right? Then why, whywhywhy, did she say yes?


	4. American Soldier

4) American Soldier- Toby Keith

Tex sat, her armored legs stretched out in front of her, cleaning her assault rifle carefully, almost obsessively. It cleared her head as she maintained her weapon meticulously: slowly, she forgot Church, forgot the Director, the Counselor. She forgot York, Wash, she even forgot Omega for a few brief seconds. Her head snapped up, slapping her rifle onto the magnetic plates on her back. She was ready.

All they saw was a blur in the air, like even reality would bend for this demon. Gunshots, the crunching of bones as armored fists hit them, the screams of terror, all echoed around the stone structure as she deactivated her cloaking ability, and removed her helmet with a slight hiss of pain when moving her neck.

Three minutes. Four, tops. That's all it had taken to kill a squad of ten men. She walked over to the scattered array of bodies and stared at their faces. They looked terrified, angry at their inability to win, and overall, defeated. There was no way they could have won. Tex knew this, and from the expressions on their faces, they knew it too. They had inferior weapons, skills, and strategies. No way in Hell.

She didn't even know who they worked for, what they were doing. Command had sent orders, and she had to follow them.

It wasn't an easy life, a pleasant one, or even a joyful one, but it gave her pride, and she knew that if her people were ever threatened, the attackers would stand no chance, and that was good enough for her, to be doing her duty. She put her helmet back on, and ghosted away, with no evidence that she had been there except for the spattered blood and corpses.


	5. Wanted, Dead or Alive

5) Wanted Dead or Alive- Bon Jovi

A/n: After they run from the freelancer base, it's kind of a creepy oneshot as to how Omega feels about Tex, because it ran away from me when I was writing it, and the other version sucked.

She brushed over her helmet carefully, barely touching the surface of the cold metal, until she found what she was looking for. She studied the small nub on the back of the helmet carefully. It blended with the other parts of the helmet rather well, except for the unusual amount of stress put on it from fighting so many had scraped away some of the paint, leaving it shiny and reflective, but still not that noticeable. Raising the hilt of her combat knife, she smashed it into the protrusion, cracking it slightly. Crushing it again, it shattered, the shards of glass- or whatever that materiel was-cutting her hand a bit.

Agent Texas grinned lethally, replacing the helmet over her fiery curls, the homing system now deactivated, crushed into smithereens.

Did you do it? demanded the cruel voice of Omega, echoing in her head.

"Yeah, I did it, don't get your panties in a twist, now." grumbled Tex, scowling at the inside of her visor, yes, the tracking was gone, but the damn AI was still there.

I heard that! exclaimed Omega haughtily, and I'll have you know that I'm in no way 'damned'. 

"Great, that's perfect for you." remarked Tex sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and climbed into a warthog, starting it up quickly, and gunning it for all it was worth.

Yes, we must get away from here. the ruthless AI encouraged, thinking at first to Tex, then to himself, _Yes, yes. Soon we shall be gone, and I will be the only one in charge,_

Gazing at Ally from her own helmet, Omega saw emerald eyes, focused on driving through desert- like terrain; full lips, pursed in anger, and her pale forehead, crinkled with worry about the plan.

_ At least she finally got rid of that Church dolt,_ he smirked to himself, _I'm the only AI she'll need, and together, she and I will do great things. No one can hurt her but me._ He smiled maliciously, thinking about the future, when everything would be like the wasteland they were in right now. The plan was foolproof.


	6. Half Life

Half Life- Trocadero

Church took a long swig of his second beer, and stared blankly at the dark brown glass bottle. It threw his reflection back at him, and he saw his slightly bloodshot eyes, his messy hair, the pallid cast of his skin. The poorly-made swill tasted like shit, but it was all the stupid Enlisted Club had. He traced the grain of the fake wood that made up the bar with one finger, his other hand supporting his head as he rested his cheek in his palm. He winced when he felt his stubble scraping against his palm.

She had hated it when he was unshaven- she was military to the bone, needed regulations, order…

As he started to peel off the slightly faded label, he tried to remember why he was here, attempting to get drunk, and he scowled and shuddered away from that thought. Oh yeah, _that _was why.

She had also hated it when he brooded and sulked… _Think of something else, anything else_. He took another gulp of the beer and sighed in defeat, signaling for the bartender to give him another. Eyes slid in and out of focus, glazed from the beer as the bartender slid him another, with a sympathetic look. He got that crowd here a lot, the lonely, heartbroken fools.

-O-

He slammed down his third, half-finished beer. Standing up, he automatically used more force than necessary, as if he was wearing his heavy armor. Since he was in only jeans and T-shirt, he crumpled to the grimy bar floor, propelled a few feet from his chair.

He clambered to his feet, using a chair, oh look, a table too, and…a person? Blinking blearily up at South, Church grinned, still holding her arm. "Hey, Soutsh," he slurred, positively reeking of alcohol, "Wasshup?" Trying to lean suavely on the old jukebox, he missed and fell once again to the ground.

"Have you seen Wash?" she asked him, glancing down at him, then standing on tip-toes in an attempt to peer over the many heads in the E-club.

"No," he mumbled; as she walked away, he sighed, letting his head flop back against the peeling wall. He stared at the ceiling, the light bulb throwing a dim glow across the patrons, glasses and liquor reflecting shadows and light.

_Damn,_ Church thought sourly, _I didn't know that Tex had this effect on me…_How could this possibly be correct? He was going to break it off with her anyway. So why, when Tex left, did she take part of him with her?

As he began to pass out, the P.A. system crackled to life with a static hissing. An emotionless female voice inform the compound of "a security breach. Security level Alpha. All available troops report to the East gate to detain Agent Texas on the double."

He smiled slightly as he succumbed to the alcohol in his bloodstream. _That's my girl._

_And I wonder where you are, _

_and I wonder what you were._

_And I'm lost, inside a bar, _

_and I'm drunk inside a war. _

-Trocadero


	7. Culling of the Folds

Culling of the Fold- The Decemberists

(This is actually Wash/ South instead of Church/ Tex)

Cassie, Cassandra, most recently, South Dakota. Many names, mused Washington as he lay dying from the gunshot wound to his back, but she had been more _things_ to him than just a name.

She was his classmate, first. Then his friend, as he _very _tentatively called their relationship after high school. Tentative because South didn't have many friends. Even her brother, her own flesh and blood, after his AI implantation, was treated with hostility and/or cold indifference, though mostly the latter.

Then she was his rival, along with 47 other soldiers in the Freelancer program- other recruits, like them, Tex and York, or older, grizzled soldiers such as Wyoming, or even the deadbeats that the Director was trying to shape up, like Maine.

After that, she was his lover. Who knows how it happened, since that night was a bit fuzzy, though Wash had his suspicions that it had concerned a bottle of scotch, a few threats, and his stuffed bunny, Mr. Bugsy. And possibly some potatoes.

She was his partner after the Freelancers were released unto the world like a plague of locusts, since she had no AI, she needed a partner who did. Namely him, and Epsilon.

Now, she was his enemy, his betrayer. She had shot him in the back without hesitation, and left him here, bleeding in the dirt as the Meta advanced slowly.

He healed slowly. He required counseling, physical therapy, and quite a bit of medications. Now he was doing light work, recovering Freelancer's AI's and armor power-ups as they died.

He was trying to reconstruct a team of people who had direct contact with the AI's. He'd found Caboose, which seemed more like a loss than a gain. Then he met Church, who seemed like a total ass. And he was, but Wash couldn't help but think that there was something important about this guy. Then, after the _encounter_ with the Meta, he stalked towards South, pulling out his pistol. She lay injured, shot in the leg, gasping for air.

"What're you gonna do, Wash," she asked, her voice gravely with pain, and Washington could almost see the smirk under her helmet, "shoot me?"

A shot rang out, echoing through the cliffs, as Wash lowered his smoking pistol.

"Yes," he replied to her, turning away and heading back to the two men staring at him. He didn't need to look to see that he had made his target perfectly.

"You guys are some cold motherfuckers," Church informed him, glancing back to the purple- armored corpse.

Wash had to agree with him.

_Take your sweetheart down to the river, _

_Dash her on the paving stones,_

_It might break your heart to break her bones, _

_But someone's gotta do the culling_

_Of the folds._

-The Decemberists


	8. Hot Blooded

Hot Blooded- Foreigner

"Tex!" called Tucker, and the freelancer, free of her armor in sweats and a tank top, cursed and groaned at the same time, a talent that she'd perfected in Blood Gulch, constantly surrounded by idiots.

"Teeex! Where are you?" he asked, poking his head into her room, and greeting her with a whine.

"I'm bored." He huffed his breath, crossing his arms. "Entertain me."

Tex looked up from her book, tucking her finger into it's pages to keep her spot. She sat up on her bed, which she'd been reclined on. "What the hell do you want me to do?" she asked rhetorically, raising an eyebrow, "I have the same resources you have, we're in a box canyon stuck with these supplies, I just use them better."

"You have that book," he pointed out triumphantly, collapsing ungracefully onto a chair.

"I didn't think you could read," she shrugged, "It's a plausible explanation. After all, I know you can't write."

"I'll give you that one," he conceded with a shrug, "but I'm still bored!"

"Go lift some weights or something," she suggested, returning her attention to her book.

"But I can't lift them!" he protested weakly, swinging his feet back and forth, hitting the rail under the chair.

Tex looked up and raised an eyebrow, "Are you suggesting that you can't get it up?" she looked back to her book as Tucker gaped at her in astonishment, brown eyes wide in shock.

"Did- did you just?" he spluttered in amazement at the perfect opening. "Bow chicka wow wow!" he crowed happily, running out of the room.

"He's gone." Tex said, apparently telling the room at large, putting aside the book.

"Good," Church replied, crawling out from under the bed, "I thought he was going to stay all day."

"That should keep him for a while, just the fact that I actually supplied an innuendo." She shrugged as Church grinned and flopped onto the bed.

"What was all that stuff about supplies?" he asked, grinning crookedly.

"I have no clue," she told him, "I was trying to keep him off the track."

That room got very quiet, _very_ fast after that but Tucker just assumed that Tex was reading her book. Strange, but they couldn't find Church. He showed up later, hair very disheveled, shirt on backwards and one sock missing, though. They never did find that sock…

_You don't have to read my mind,_

_To know what I have in mind,_

_Honey you aught to know._

- Foreigner


	9. Bad Day

**A/n: Alrighty, now I feel like an ass for spamming everyone's inboxes with my formatting failure. I hope everyone likes this better- if there's **_**anything**_** wrong, pleasepleaseplease tell me! I love constructive criticism! Thank you so much to Agent South Dakota and Martienne, for tons of helpfulness! (I didn't even know that was a real word, but apparently it is!) Plus, this is Children's music, yes, but it's pretty damn good. ;]**

Bad Day- Barenaked Ladies

Allison flung open the door, bouncing while she walked, bursting with energy, in that unique way only eight-year olds can. The Texas sky was a bit overcast, the summer heat and humidity thrown over the state like a thick, stifling blanket.

As she walked down the sidewalk, stepping on all the cracks, she hummed a little tune, a popular song that was playing on all the radios lately. She swerved quickly to walk up to the door of one of her friends' houses. She sprang up the three cement stairs to the front door quickly, pressing the yellowed doorbell button.

"Hey!" her friend, Lizzie, exclaimed, then saw who it was as she opened the door further. "Oh, hey Ally. Um, what's up?" the girl fiddled with her blonde hair, shifting nervously as she addressed Allison, considerably less excited than she was a few seconds ago.

"I was wondering if you wanted to play some ball?" asked Ally, with a hopeful smile, oblivious to Lizzie's mood change.

"Um," Lizzie glanced behind her, "Sorry, I'm, uh, helping my mom clean." She trailed off, playing with the hem of her shirt edgily.

"Oh, okay." replied Ally, face falling, voice noticeably getting quieter. She turned halfway and started down the stairs. "I'll just go, then." She mumbled, trying to put a faint smile on her freckle-spattered features.

"Okay," Lizzie closed the door on her, quickly running back to the kitchen, eager to tell the other girls she had over about how weird the new girl on the block was.

Allison trudged back to her house, feet dragging, and a hurt expression on her face. She knew something was up. She sat heavily on her front porch and sighed, tossing the baseball back and forth between her hands.

"Hi," a shy-sounding voiced started, "Me and the guys are playing a game, do you want to join?"

She looked up, and saw a skinny, gangly boy with unkempt short black hair, and friendly blue eyes, holding a baseball bat and offering her a hand. At her gate stood a cluster of other boys, okay looking, looking like they were arguing over teams.

There was a pause, in which they looked at each other, Allison a bit wary of this new kid.

She smiled, "Sure." Her heart lifted with elation. Who needed Lizzie, she couldn't even pitch well. As the kid, 'Leo', helped her up, she had this really weird feeling. Like she would know him for a really long time…she shrugged it off. "Dibs on batter!"

_They didn't need to say, _

_That they didn't want to play,_

_I think I'll just stay in my room…_

-Barenaked Ladies

A/n: i think it's abit OOC, but then again, this is when they're eight, so how heartless can Tex be? (-scary question...)


End file.
